


The Knight and the Queen

by theSapphireSky



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, John's POV, Medieval AU, Sir Sherlock, queen molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 14:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12191388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theSapphireSky/pseuds/theSapphireSky
Summary: It's the day of the Royal Wedding. And Molly wishes the man waiting for her was her true love...a man believed to be dead.





	The Knight and the Queen

John hurried down the hall, cursing the heavy cape he had to wear for the ceremony. The thick fabric billowed around his boot-clad legs, his steps loud on the stone floor.

It was almost mid-day, the royal court down in the throne room awaiting the Queen’s arrival. Prince Tomas, a dim weasel of a man from the neighboring land, was demanding that the ceremony commence at once. And John had immediately left, not to hurry his Queen, but rather to remove himself from the man’s presence before he pulled his sword on the idiot.

This was absolute folly and everyone with a lick of sense knew it. Lady Molly had endured the mockery of so many for ruling her kingdom without a husband for years; yet, she held her head high and was adored by her subjects and soldiers alike. There was no reason for her now to be wed.

John was proud to be the second in command, and considered one of her closest advisers and friends. He saw daily how she held herself with grace and intelligence, bringing them through fight and famine, showing compassion to even the poorest stranger who sought refuge in their city.

He only wished she had not bent to the pressure to marry and chosen that spoiled brat of a Prince. John clenched his jaw and tried to soothe his rising fury, mingled with sorrow. Had the Captain of the Guard not been lost in battle winter last, there was no doubt in John’s mind that the Queen would have thrown royal expectation out of the window and married him were he amenable. She had adored Sir Sherlock unabashedly and unconditionally. And though he would deny it, Sherlock had adored her just as much in return. Though the clot had never told her so. For years, John had had to watch the young Queen pine for her Captain, who seemed oblivious to her feelings, even callous at times. But during the few months before his disappearance, John would have sworn he saw something in Sherlock’s expression when he looked at her, a softness that wasn’t there before, whenever the Queen turned away. John recognized it for what it was.

Love.

But they had wasted too much time. Riding out to defend one of their border villages, the knights had been ambushed. And Sherlock was lost in the fight. They had searched high and low, but all they could find was his blood-soaked cape and his sword.

The light that once lit up her face dimmed and the Queen mourned her love for nearly a year, a grieving she went through alone, never letting anyone see her sorrow, though John could see the evidence. The paleness of her cheeks, the loss of appetite and the way he gowns grew just a mite too big for her petite frame, and the forced cheeriness in her once easily-given smiles.

Then, without any warning, she declared one day that she intended to marry. And soon. The suddenness of her decision threw the kingdom into an excited chaos as preparations began in earnest. When John worriedly questioned her decision, she reassured him with a soft smile that she was doing what was best for the kingdom.

John had simply rested his hand atop hers and asked, “And what of what is best for you, milady?”

Her pained smile and shining eyes were his answer.

oOo

Arriving at her rooms, John composed himself and knocked. “My lady, it is nearly time?”

Silence greeted him. He knocked again. “My lady, are you ready?”

He listened carefully, ear pressed against the wood. There was a muffled sound, followed by a deep voice speaking unintelligibly. There was someone in there with her!

John unsheathed his sword and stepped back, kicking the lock open and bursting into the room, prepared to defend his Queen.

Only to stumble to a halt at the sight before him.

In her elegantly embroidered, crimson wedding gown, the Queen was wrapped in the embrace of another man. A man John had previously thought to be long dead.

Sherlock, his late friend (in more ways than one) and former Captain of the Guard, was kissing Lady Molly as if she was water and he a man dying of thirst.

And by the way the Queen was holding him and kissing him back, there would be no wedding today. At least, not the one that was planned and currently commencing below.

At his explosive entrance, they parted and turned toward him. Sherlock smirked at John’s gaping face.

“Hello, old friend.”

If there was any doubt in John’s mind that the vision before him was real, it disappeared with the sound of that familiar, aggravatingly arrogant voice.

“You.” The word burst from him in a hoarse whisper, only partly conveying the sheer relief and joy, but mostly rage, that he truly felt. Alive all this time!

John didn’t realise he had taken a threatening step toward the clot until the Queen moved between them, her hand covering Sherlock’s chest protectively and his spanning her back. Taking a deep breath, John glared at the not-dead knight and sheathed his sword, but kept his hand on the hilt as a warning. “Fine time for you to come swanning back from the dead.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “I would have been back sooner, but as it stands, I was hard pressed to even make it back in time to stop this sham of a wedding.”

John glowered. “You put us through Hell, you know.”

Sherlock’s features softened and he looked down at the woman before him, brushing his thumb along her cheek. “Yes, I know,” he admitted softly. “And I am truly sorry. To both of you.”

It wasn’t enough to appease John’s anger, but now was hardly the time to challenge the other man to a sparring match to work off his fury. After all, there was a man waiting to wed the Queen in a matter minutes, a woman who was currently mussed from a passionate embrace with another man.

“Sir John,” the Queen spoke up softly, refusing to look away from Sherlock. “Please convey my regrets to Prince Tomas and inform him that there will be no wedding today. I think he will be amenable, he has had his eye on that pretty dark-haired woman in his court since he got here; and I will seek an audience with his father come next month to discuss the disputed land. I’m sure we can all come to an agreement that doesn’t involve an arranged marriage.”

She knew him well, that he would need time to get his anger under control. He gave her a brief nod in gratitude for understanding.

“Yes, my lady.” John bowed and, shooting one final scowl to Sherlock, he turned to leave.

“John.”

He paused at Sherlock’s call and looked over his shoulder. The tall knight was smiling softly, no hint of a smirk or mock, down at his Queen.

“It would be a shame to waste all that food and preparation. Why not invite the guests to stay, perhaps the wedding will go on. Though not quite as planned.”

John breathed out sharply through his nose. It only fit that the clot would make his return as memorable as possible.

“That is, if it pleases my Queen.” Sherlock lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a sweet kiss to her knuckles. Even John, as angry as he was, smiled a little at the tender gaze Sherlock bestowed upon his beloved.

Lady Molly smiled, her eyes shimmering. “Nothing would make me happier, my love.”

And as Sherlock bent down to kiss her, his arms pulling her close and hers wrapping around his neck, John slipped out of the room and hurried back the way he had come. Though his cape was as heavy as before, his heart was light and there was a brightness to the day that hadn’t been there before. He was still going to destroy Sherlock on the sparring grounds. But, for his Queen’s sake, he would wait until after their honeymoon.


End file.
